


Deal with the Devil

by whitedandelions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Horror, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitedandelions/pseuds/whitedandelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's only eight when his family is brutally murdered and he's kidnapped by their killers. In an act of desperation, Harry summons a devil and makes a contract with him. In exchange for his soul, Tom Riddle will help him avenge his family. Ten years later, the Queen gives Harry a case on missing wizarding children, the facts of which are eerily similar to his own ten years ago. As he continues to investigate, more and more secrets come out into the light and in the end, it starts to become clear that the only one on his side just might be Tom. Tomarry. Black Butler inspired AU. DARK.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm so excited to share this! I got the idea for this and literally couldn't do anything else but sit down and write it, because Tom fits being a devil SO well, and if you know Black Butler, imagining Tom = Sebastian was SO easy?? Though of course, they won't act the same considering Tom's much more snarky and not as nice, and you really don't need to have any knowledge of Black Butler besides the fact that it's about a boy who makes a contract with a devil and said devil stays by boy's side and helps him accomplish all his goals. I also wanted to write a story with lots of mystery in it, so I'm so very excited to get to the later chapters with all the plot twists. Also, treat Tom Riddle = separate entity as Voldemort.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

**Title** : Deal with the Devil  
**ff.net Summary** : Promising the devil his soul in exchange for revenge on the Death Eaters is one of the easiest deals Harry's ever made. Tomarry. BlackButler inspired AU. DARK.  
**AO3 Summary:  
** Harry's only eight when his family is brutally murdered and he's kidnapped by their killers. In an act of desperation, Harry summons a devil and makes a contract with him. In exchange for his soul, Tom Riddle will help him avenge his family. Ten years later, the Queen gives Harry a case on missing wizarding children, the facts of which are eerily similar to his own ten years ago. As he continues to investigate, more and more secrets come out into the light and in the end, it starts to become clear that the only one on his side just might be Tom. Tomarry. BlackButler inspired AU. DARK.

  
**Chapter 1**

* * *

 " _Wingardium Leviosa."_

Eight-year-old Harry laughs with delight as his magic floats the leaves he's been practicing with for the past hour. "Look Neville!" he says, "It's finally worked."

"Wow," says Neville, looking up from where he had been studying a plant closely. "And it only took you an hour, Harry! Imagine what it'll be like if you had a real wand."

Harry grins, closing his fist and watching as the leaves fall back down. "I can teach you," he offers, and Neville shakes his head.

"I haven't even shown signs of magic yet," he says, looking dejected. "What if I'm a squib?"

"You won't be," says Harry, confident, and Neville smiles at him.

The peaceful moment is ruined when cracks sound through the air. In seconds, there are men in tall, black coats with their faces covered by a porcelain masks that all look the same.

Harry stares at them, knowing immediately that these are the bad men that his parents have been running from since he was little. Neville seems to catch on as well, and they scramble to get behind the chairs in order to hide. How had they even gotten past the wards? Longbottom Manor was _unplottable_.

"Get those set up," says a man with a deep voice. Two men rush to do his bidding, crouching and placing down things that look like stones onto the ground. Immediately, the air is stripped by magic, and Harry has to stifle a gasp at the effects of the stones, falling heavily into Neville's side. It _hurts_ , and it takes all he can do not to start crying at the intensity of it all.

Three men walk forward after the stones are put into place, and Harry watches in horror as they all raise their wands in unison. Fire starts to stream from their wands, appearing with a roaring, billowing noise and a snake appears out of one of the flames, setting Longbottom Mansion ablaze.

"Grandmother's in there," says Neville, his voice shaking in terror. "And your parents."

Harry can't respond because he's choked up from both the lack of magic in the air and the horror that is the burning mansion. The flames flicker in front of him, and he can hear the shouts of horror from the people inside. He can hear them screaming the incantation for water and yet nothing happening.

"And look what we have here," comes a male voice and Harry winces when strong hands grasp the sides of his shoulders. He's lifted high up, and he doesn't even struggle, his eyes not leaving the burning mansion. He wishes he wasn't only eight and without a wand, wishes that he could do _something_ to save the people in there.

He barely registers Neville getting taken too. Angry, hot tears stream down his face, and he glares defiantly up at the Death Eater who comes to stand in front of him. The porcelain mask is even more terrifying up close, and Harry loses track of time of how long the Death Eater stares at him.

"Take him," the man finally says. "Leave the other. He's practically a squib anyway."

Neville gives a cry of outrage at that, but Harry feels dizzy from the lack of magic and the tight grip that the man still has on him. When they place a cloth over his mouth to knock him out, Harry's last sight is of Neville getting thrown back after trying his best to attack the men holding Harry.

* * *

 He doesn't know where his parents are.

He's been kept in a prison for the past day, without any food or water. He's parched from both crying and screaming in horror and he's not quite sure what's going to happen to him now that he's been essentially kidnapped.

Only Neville knows what's happened and Harry doesn't even _know_ if Neville is still alive.

It's a chilling realization to know that no one is coming for him.

He's lost track of time when they finally come.

Pain bleeds into his life and time starts to tick by overwhelmingly slowly.

He spends more time unconscious than awake, and it's only when he jolts upright by a different kind of pain that he realizes something is _wrong_.

Flames are flickering around him. There's the smell of burning flesh, but he still can't see, his eyes rendered useless by the constant blindfolding and withholding of light. He turns his head this way and that, and flinches away when a strong grip grasps his chin.

"Are you finally here to kill me?" he asks, his voice trembling, and there's a sound of amusement from above him.

"Is that why you summoned me?" asks a male voice. "If all you wanted was death, then I assure you, there are much easier ways."

"I summoned you?" he asks in disbelief, and now the man is definitely amused.

"Yes. Is there anything you want before I grant you your wish?"

"I don't want to die!" he gets out in a panic, and the man pauses, his hand falling away from Harry's chin.

"Then what do you want? I am not a very patient devil, little one."

He summoned a _devil_? The devil seems to notice his shock because in seconds, there's a softly glowing ball of light floating above the devil's right hand. When Harry's eyes finally adjust, his mouth drops open in surprise at the sight of the devil in front of him. He has tall devil-like wings behind him and his eyes are an intense red in a shape of a cat's. He's unbearably _handsome_ even dressed in clothes that resemble black fire and with the light revealing his sharp unhumanlike teeth. He's unlike anything Harry's ever seen before and looks like a product of his own nightmares.

Harry rears back in surprise, and the devil grins, his sharp teeth even more prominent. "Do I scare you, little one?" He pauses, tilting his head to the side and sniffing once or twice noticeably before his grin grows. "Your suffering has made your soul delicious. I'll only ask once; will you like to form a contract with me?"

He's been warned about these devils before. They're beings that thirst after mortals' souls, especially those of mortals who have suffered greatly. In return for a wish granted, the devil will get his soul for eternity. If he accepts, he would no longer be able to see the pearly gates of heaven.

But his parents were burned _alive_ and he's still being tortured by their killers. This devil is his only way out. If he dies now…he'll never be able to get revenge.

"Yes," he says, and the devil's smile grows.

"Then tilt your head back," he says, and when Harry obeys, the devil's palm covers his eyes. Sharp, intense pain begins in his right eye. When he's finally able to open his eyes again, he knows already that the symbol, a spinning star enveloped by a circle, of the contract must be on his now purple eye. The devil has a similar symbol, spinning on the back of his left hand.

"And now, little one," says the devil. "What is your order?"

"Kill them," he says, and the devil obeys.

When it's over, they're still surrounded by flickering flames. The devil's unmarred, having taken them all down easily, and he's standing there in front of Harry, a serene look on his face. The smell of death is strong in the air, and Harry chokes on it, tears watering in his eyes. He stumbles, unable to keep standing any longer, and the devil catches him easily, hoisting him up so that Harry is now safely in his arms.

He falls apart, knowing the devil will now keep him safe, and sobs into the devil's chest. The devil doesn't say a word, and Harry doesn't know how long he cries. There's just too many things to be sorry about – his parents' burning, Neville's unknown whereabouts, and even these kidnappers' deaths. He never wanted to be part of this.

Finally, he's calm enough to speak, and his voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "Please," he begs, the tall, flickering flames reflected in his green and purple eyes. "Take it all away."

The devil blinks, his tall wings folded neatly behind him and his sharp teeth glinting when he opens his mouth to respond. "You'll forget your magic," the devil says.

"I don't care," says Harry. "I can't – this isn't –" he stammers as he tries to think up a response that could detail the extreme horror he had felt after his parents had been burned alive and then realizes he really couldn't.

"Okay," says the devil, rather mercifully cutting him off.

"Thank you," says Harry, and closes his eyes. The devil covers Harry's eyes with the hand marked with a symbol of their contract, his flesh searing hot. He winces, and the devil sounds apologetic.

"This will hurt," the devil warns, and Harry screams when the devil envelops them with his wings.

When he next opens his eyes, they're far away from the burning mansion. They're in the woods, in a clearing flooded with moonlight, and Harry's head hurts when he raises his eyes to look into the devil's.

"What do I call you?" he asks, and a look of amusement crosses the devil's face.

"The last time I came to the mortal realm, I was called Tom Riddle," says the devil.

"Okay," Harry says, and then he holds out his hand to the devil. "Take me home then, Tom Riddle."

"As you wish," says Riddle, his hand enveloping Harry's in a tight grip.

* * *

  **Ten Years Later**

"I don't know why you always insist on bringing knives," comes Harry's amused voice into his earpiece. "And forks, of all things. Are you making fun of us humans?"

"Of course not, my lord," says Tom, twisting to the side to dodge gunfire _,_ and swiftly throws a knife with deadly accuracy at the sniper. He makes sure to avoid any fatal points because Harry's always on him to avoid spilling blood; he just wants them to _hurt_ a bit for being in his way. These grunts aren't his main target anyway.

"To your left," says Harry, and Tom rolls, the bullet barely clipping the edge of his tailcoat. He frowns because he hates sewing the _most_ and chooses his sharpest knife to take out the offender. It lands neatly into the grunt's shoulder, and Tom leaps and lands next to the downed man. He smiles at the pure terror that's in the man's eyes, enjoying it in a way only a devil could, and when Harry clears his throat, he picks up the discarded gun and uses the back of it to knock the man out.

He drops it a moment later; guns would make things too easy and short and he barely gets enough time to go out to cause mayhem as it is. He tilts his head, listening intently and then reaches into his pocket, pulling out an exquisite pocket watch. He pops it open, looking at the time as he waits patiently for the rest of the grunts to get into position to 'ambush' him.

"It's almost your bedtime," he says conversationally.

"I don't have a bedtime," says Harry, almost immediately.

"You do when you get yourself kidnapped," says Tom. He slips the pocketwatch back into his clothes, taking a knife out and pivoting it in-between his fingers. "Hello," he says to the first grunt. "You have my master, so this isn't personal."

He doesn't wait for a reply, instead throwing four knives at once, each one positioned in-between a finger. Two of them take out a grunt and the other two disarm a grunt of his gun, forcing him to drop it when the knives hit his fingers. He takes his time with the others, dodging the bullets with ease and using either a fork or a knife to take them out eventually.

Harry doesn't complain, probably knowing just how much Tom likes to cause chaos, and it's only when Tom is the last one standing, that Harry speaks up again.

"Just you know," says Harry, amused, "sitting in the middle of enemy headquarters while my hero has fun with the grunts. Just imagine how much danger I'm in."

"If you're talking," says Tom, "then I'm pretty sure the danger has passed." He picks up a gun as he lightly steps past the downed humans, and holds it loosely in his grip as he approaches the front doors. He shoots the lock a few times, blasting it open and letting him swing open the doors easily. "Besides, I'm no hero," he says, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the second level. There are grunts here too, and Tom has time to stealthily take out a few before they notice his presence.

"Right," says Harry, "Like I'll ever forget you're a mean, angry devil that's only after my soul."

That actually startles a laugh out of him, and the last grunt standing spins on the spot, apparently convinced that the money isn't worth it and it's probably smarter to run. Tom doesn't give him the luxury of running, downing him by hitting his legs with sharp knives, and then as the grunt lay quivering on the ground in horror, stomps on him to knock him out.

When he reaches the end of the hallway, the doors swing open, and Harry smiles up at him, not a lock of his brown hair out of place. He's still dressed in the same clothes he had worn to the party when he had been kidnapped earlier in the evening; he had been wearing one of Tom's latest creations, a fancy black suitjacket along with fancy shorts. His eyepatch is the only thing missing, and the Faustian contract on his purple eye is visible and spinning.

Tom reaches into his pocket, pulling out a spare eyepatch as he's prone to carry on him. He brushes Harry's bangs to the side, before deftly tying the eyepatch back on, hiding the contract from view. "You look fine," he remarks.

Harry grins brightly back up at him, the seventeen-year-old taking his hand to lead him past the double doors and into the room he had been locked up in. The offender has his hands pierced together by Harry's cane, the only weapon Harry had been able to smuggle into the party. The man's legs are tied together by his own ripped up jacket, and he's gagged with some of the same material.

"It was almost disappointingly easy," says Harry, with some scorn curling his top lip. "He didn't suspect a thing."

"You do look pathetically harmless, my lord," says Tom, drawing an offended look from his master, and Tom grins as he walks over to the desk to observe the wand Harry's snapped in half. It had only taken him a few months of study to learn how to identify wands and he knows that they've gotten the right guy.

"I've already called Maylene to pick up the body," Tom says as he turns back to face Harry. "Ready to go home?"

"I've been ready for an hour now," says Harry, but he's smiling so Tom just rolls his eyes.

Tom walks over to his master, picking up Harry's slim body bridal style. "Maybe if you fought your way out yourself you would be home already," says Tom, walking the both of them over to the open balcony of the room.  Harry had probably been standing here when he had been watching Tom fight the grunts earlier.

"But then what's the point of you?" asks Harry, cheekily. Tom sighs heavily at that, and Harry laughs brightly into his ear as Tom jumps off the balcony.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"I heard you were kidnapped," says Queen Victoria. Her voice sounds worried, and she's nervously checking Harry over for any injuries, but Harry knows it's all for show anyway. He's simply her watchdog, nothing more, even if she likes to act as if she's his grandmother.

They have a professional relationship, after all. The Potters have been the liason between the magical world and the muggle world for generations now. However, when Harry turned his back on the magical world, he had focused more on completing his duty for the Queen rather than the Minister, turning their relationship into what it is now.

"I'm alright," he says, for more her benefit than his. He doesn't go into further detail to explain how he got kidnapped on purpose, because he's pretty sure that would send her into hysterics over his safety. Which was _ridiculous_ because she needed him as he was now. Coddling him would do no one any favors.

"Good," says the Queen, and she fluffs her large, poofy skirts once before fanning them out in order to sit down on the extravagant loveseat in front of him. "Congratulations on capturing the Death Eater, then. He's been convicted by the Wizengamot and Cornelius is sending him to Azkaban as we speak."

"Thank you," he says.

The Queen smiles, "You don't have to be all work all the time, Harry. I feel bad for working you so hard. You know, your parents took breaks sometimes."

He barely conceals his flinch from the mention of his parents, and he shakes his head in order to clear his thoughts. "I don't have time for breaks, your Majesty," he says.

She sighs, "I knew you would say that. Here," she places a manila folder on the coffee table in front of them. "There's been a series of missing magical children. One of the victims showed up dead in the middle of a muggle town, wearing muggle clothes and drained of magic. The muggle influence is why we were informed of this and why I am putting you on this case. The Aurors will be working it as well, but they will be restricted by magical laws and their woeful lack of knowledge on Muggles. I trust you will find the children. The little information we have is in this booklet."

He frowns, and his suspicions are confirmed when he flips through the booklet. The only information are the missing kids' names. It will take at least a week of downtime to gather more information. "You're putting me on a break, anyway, aren't you?"

"Your revenge is consuming you," says the Queen. "Sometimes, you need to take a step back, or else you'll burn out too quickly." Harry opens his mouth, and the Queen frowns, her voice strict. "I will not be questioned on this."

Harry winces at her tone, before nodding and the Queen smiles.

"I've been at this a lot longer than you, Harry. Keeping this world safe is no easy matter. But I have faith that you will continue to do well as long as you listen to me."

"Yes, your Majesty," he says, and picks up the folder.

* * *

Tom is looking at him as if he's amused, even as Harry picks up another vase and throws it against the wall, shattering it into pieces.

"Finnian won't be able to clean that up very well," observes Tom. "He's going to cut himself."

"Fine," he snaps. "Then _you_ clean it."

Tom chuckles, and when Harry picks up another vase, a gloved hand is there immediately, forcing him to lower it. "I gather the meeting didn't go over very well."

"I'm not getting any closer," Harry gets out between gritted teeth. "I thought working with the Queen would get me _some_ clues on who burned my parents alive, but …"

"You know who gave the orders," says Tom, calmly. "Lord Voldemort."

"But he's nowhere to be found! And if I can't find him, how can I rescue Neville?"

Tom's silent, and Harry feels small under his gaze. He sighs, before pulling out the manila folder the Queen had given him. "Missing children's case," he says, throwing the folder onto his cherry oak desk. "But she's only given me a list of names, even though I'm sure she has more information. One has been found dead, drained of magic and wearing muggle clothes. It's going to take weeks to get the necessary information to even _start_ this case."

"Ah," says Tom, his red eyes quickly scanning the documents. "All under the age of twelve and most of them purebloods. And drained of magic…"

"What is it?" asks Harry, and Tom shakes his head.

"Nothing, my lord."

"You know something," he accuses, and Tom smiles.

"Just a hunch. Nothing to worry about."

He narrows his eyes at Tom and Tom starts to shuffle the documents back into the folder. He's acting _awfully_ innocent. "I can order you," he threatens, a bit petulantly, and Tom chuckles.

"But you won't," he says. "Because you already know what I'm thinking, don't you, my lord?"

He flinches, and Tom's smile turns wry. "It's just, when I found _you_ , my lord, _you_ were drained of magic, weren't you?"

His head's pounding and Tom notices, leaning forward to place his left hand, the hand with the contract, against his temple. Immediately, the pounding stops. "I apologize. It's not good for you to think on those things," says Tom. "I've taken them away per your request, and until you want them back, it will be safer for you to forget about your time back then."

"Okay," he says, and Tom pats his head.

"Now there's a good boy. I'll be back tonight with more information on these children's whereabouts. Until then, play nice with the others."

Harry scowls, but Tom's gone before he can say anything else.

* * *

He's blindfolded. He's on a flat surface, made out of a material that is inherently cold. Cold enough that it seeps into his bones and causes him to shiver despite the bright light that's shining down onto him. There's a murmur of voices all around him, but he can't make out any of the words.

And then there's pain, pain he knows far too intimately, and he's screaming, thrashing against the restraints. He gets one hand free, and he holds it above him, outstretched as if searching for someone, something to save him.

Someone does. A gloved hand tugs on his, bringing him into a sitting position and the restraints melt away as a calm voice starts to speak to him.

"Wake up, Harry," says Tom, and when he opens his eyes, the devil is there, his eyes catlike in the dark of the room.

"Your wings," he says, groggy from sleep, and Tom tucks them behind his back, away from view. "You're in your true form," he says, now more awake, and he frowns when moonlight hits Tom, revealing the blood marring his usually flawless suit.

"I was in the middle of something when I heard you calling out for me," says Tom, and when Harry blinks, he's back to his wingless, human-like form. "Can't even leave you alone for one night, can I?"

"No," he says, "you should know better than to leave me for so long."

"Needy, aren't you?" retorts Tom, and Harry sighs, tugging on Tom so he could fall bonelessly into Tom's chest.

His nightmares had been coming back full-force lately. He figures it means that the block on his memories is fraying. Tom may be a devil, but even he can't perfectly erase Harry's memories especially since the memories had such a traumatic effect on him. An _obliviation_ would work, but Harry refuses to let anyone else know just exactly what memories he wanted to forget. Only Tom and him can ever know what had happened that fateful night.

Tom doesn't say anything else, and Harry draws comfort from the fact that Tom's there against him and that he's safe. The nightmare had brought back far too many feelings he had wanted to forget forever, and Tom makes him feel _safe_ and no longer helpless.

That's the feeling he hates most. Feeling helpless.

"Some warm milk might help," suggests Tom when time has passed, and Harry shakes his head.

"I'm okay," he says. "You still have work to do and my nightmares never come back after I wake once. But stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Always," promises Tom, and when Harry lays back down and closes his eyes, he falls asleep to the comfort of Tom's breathing.

* * *

"Good morning, my lord," wakes Harry up and he can't help the groan that escapes his mouth when the sunlight hits his eyes.

"Morning," he says, the words muffled since he's on his stomach and he can hear Tom chuckling.

"Rough night?" asks Tom, his voice knowing, and Harry sighs, rolling over, sitting up, and holding out his arms. Skillful hands tie his customary eye-patch on his right eye and Tom delicately removes his night-clothes, replacing them with the outfit Tom's chosen him for today.

When he opens his eyes, Tom's smiling down at him, and Harry accepts his help in standing. He glances down at his clothes, they're fancy and black and he immediately frowns. "We're going to the Wizarding World?"

"Yes," says Tom. And Harry narrows his eyes at Tom's pleased little smile.

"What'd you do?" he asks, warily, and Tom's smile becomes all sharp teeth.

"Nothing you wouldn't approve of, my lord. I just convinced the Aurors it would be best to let us take the lead of their investigation."

"Oh," he says, out of both shock and delight, because he had _not_ been looking forward to working with the Aurors.

"We're going to Diagon Alley," says Tom. He hands Harry the cane that Harry had used just the other day. Harry takes the hilt of it, letting the bottom rest on the ground. It's not necessary, but it completes the outfit and it's a hidden weapon if anyone gets too close. "We're going to visit the place the last victim had went missing."

"Name?" he asks.

"Alice Brown. Eleven years of age. Going to Hogwarts for her first year if she hadn't gone missing.

"Is this little girl the one who had her magic drained?" asks Harry, following Tom out of his bedroom. Tom leads them toward the dining room.

"The corpse was unrecognizable; its face was burnt off," says Tom. "With the magic gone as well, there was no signature to check. It may have been Alice or it may have been one of the other four children missing. Logic says it should be the first child who had gone missing, but we've both found criminals are hardly logical."

Harry frowns at the dismal information, but is saved from answering when Tanaka, his older butler, greets them warmly and opens the dining room's double doors for them. "Good morning," he says politely, and nods when Tanaka bows at the waist.

The dining room is expansive, with large windows letting in huge amounts of light. The dining table is long and white, filled to the brim with expensive and exquisite English treats such as scones and biscuits with the accompanying jam. White hydrangeas complete the look, hanging delicately from both the ceiling and selected chairs. He sends Tom a look of annoyance, because really, must it be such an occasion every single time they have a meal? Just because the devil didn't have to sleep, didn't mean he had to waste time doing things like this. They weren't even having guests!

Tom sends him a closed-eyed smile back, looking serene as always. He pulls out the chair at the head of the table for Harry, and Harry obliges, sitting down and immediately going for the cup of steaming tea that's waiting for him.

* * *

"It seems as if they're targeting children that won't be missed," muses Harry. The two of them are sitting in a small café in the middle of Diagon Alley, snacking on both tea and biscuits after a long afternoon of questioning storeowners. "Alice was an orphan, with only her blood making her stand out. So why her? She hadn't even started Hogwarts yet."

"Perhaps for the very reason you stated earlier, my lord," says Tom. "They want magical children that won't be missed. And we already know they're draining these children of their magic."

"Rituals," says Harry, slowly. "Someone's performing rituals on these kids. And the requirements are pureblooded children. That's why they haven't gone after the Muggleborns yet."

"Ah," says Tom, "Perhaps the Queen isn't sending us on a wild goose chase after all."

"You think it's Death Eaters then?"

"Yes," says Tom and Harry narrows his eyes at the devil.

"You knew since last night, didn't you?"

Tom inclines his head, "Very good, my lord."

Harry sighs, "One day I'll figure these cases out before you. However, if the perpetrators are really Death Eaters, why throw out the body where it could be found? They have spells to get rid of a body for good."

"Perhaps they want to be caught," says Tom. "By giving us false clues, they can lead us far away from their true purpose."

"Gathering magic…" sounds out Harry, "they're going to use that magic to bring out the Dark Lord."

"Or the Dark Lord himself is going to use that magic to make himself stronger," points out Tom.

Harry frowns, "We don't have enough information to know for sure. Can we visit the town where the last victim was found?"

"There'll be no point," says Tom. "They've already moved the body and I've seen both."

"So we're stuck again," says Harry and Tom pointedly takes one of the scones off of the center of the table and places it on Harry's plate.

"Yes, I have contacts working on gathering more information about the other five children. Which means there is nothing more for you to do but sit there and eat your scone."

Harry frowns, "Have you been talking to the Queen again?"

"She sends me letters every once in a while," says Tom. "Besides, you _do_ need a break."

"There's children out there missing," says Harry. "They might be going through the same exact thing _I_ went through. I can't just take a break."

"You can," says Tom, patiently. "If you burn yourself out, then what use would you be? And you are helping, because you've enlisted me to help."

Harry frowns because he can't really argue against Tom because he knows the devil will be more help than him in any aspect anyway. He sighs, "Shouldn't you want me to get my revenge faster? Then you can eat my soul and all."

"Too much suffering makes it overly sweet," says Tom, and Harry rolls his eyes because he knows the devil's teasing him. "Besides," continues Tom, "I'm having fun being your butler right now. I'm perfectly happy postponing my feast for a little while longer."

Harry makes a face at that, but when Tom's eyes cut to the scone still sitting innocently on his plate, he obediently starts to nibble at the blueberry scone.

* * *

They hit dead end after dead end.

There's just not enough information, even with Tom searching around. The five children were relatively unknown foremost, and they didn't have any contacts to interrogate.

Which meant Harry had to accept more and more invitations from the Queen to go to her Court. It had been a tiring week, catering to the nobles and _especially_ to the Queen's granddaughter. Harry's pretty sure the Queen's already angling for him to marry her.

Harry sighs heavily, and then groans, plunking his head down on the table in front of him in pure annoyance.

There's the sound of the door opening and Harry doesn't look up, immediately knowing who the newcomer is. After all, only one person would ever dare to enter his office without permission.

"Is something the matter, my lord?" comes Tom's amused voice.

"I'm so sick of all these _balls_. We're not meant to play nice! We're supposed to solve cases and help people."

"Ah," says Tom, his tone understanding. "Good thing this just came in."

Harry looks up warily, unsure if he should trust his devil or not. When Tom just hands him a letter scuffed up by an owl's talons, he immediately knows something's wrong. If it's been carried by an owl, then it couldn't possibly be from the Queen.

"Is it safe to open?" he asks, and Tom looks amused.

"I wouldn't give you something dangerous, would I?"

"Need I remind you of what happened the last time I opened a letter from you?"

"Harmless fun, my lord," says Tom. "It was for your birthday, after all."

"Right," says Harry, and then he opens the envelope. There's only one thing in there, a slip of paper with handwriting on it. He gingerly takes it out, scanning the text with a small frown. "Evelyn Woods," he reads out loud. "First year at Hogwarts."

"If it came to us," starts Tom, and Harry frowns.

"It doesn't look very official though," says Harry. "What if it's a false lead? It's not from the Queen, for sure."

"You let me worry about that, my lord," says Tom, and he reaches over, picking up the small slip of paper with two fingers. "We'll contact Hogwarts to confirm. We'll keep it a little secret from the Queen for now."

"She won't be very happy about that if she finds out," remarks Harry.

"She won't," says Tom, and Harry nods, getting up from his seat to head to the one fireplace connected to the Floo.

* * *

 **A/N:** sorry, for the delay in updating! So names...victim names...I suck at making OC's, so please ignore all the random names haha.

Thanks as always for the lovely reviews and favs :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like, i got kinda discouraged because i realized this is just a crossover lmao. i was kinda hesitant before because i don't really remember much about kuroshitsuji??? just little details, so if I get thing inaccurate, feel free to shout at me.

“I hate magic,” says Harry, and Tom actually laughs at him, holding a gloved hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. 

“Are you alright, my lord?” asks Tom, but Harry knows the devil’s still laughing at him so he just glares at the offered hand.  “Portkeys are known to be hard on a mortal’s stomach.  You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

Harry scowls, one of his own hands pressing hard against his stomach in order to somehow abate the churning of it.  “Why can’t they have more Muggle-friendly ways to get here?  I would have been perfectly happy getting a cab or even taking the Hogwarts Express but of _course_ the bloody train only runs once a year.”

“Perhaps next time I can fly us here.”

“If Portkeys hurt my stomach,” says Harry, “then I’m pretty sure you flying won’t be much better.”

“You won’t know until you try,” says Tom, and promptly falls quiet.  Harry looks up to see Headmaster Dumbledore and his Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall heading toward them.  He’ll never understand wizarding culture, _especially_ Dumbledore’s robes with their shimmery quality and gaudy add ons.  Harry refused to wear a robe, and instead compromised by wearing a slim-fitted coat that went up to his knees.

“Hello, Headmaster,” he greets when they get closer, and he drops into a short bow.  “Deputy Headmistress.”

“Oh,” says McGonagall, looking overwhelmed.  “You have your mother’s eyes, Harry.”

He flinches, though he’s able to conceal it since he’s been expecting mentions of his parents ever since he’s known he’ll have to interact heavily with the magical world.  “As I’ve been told,” he says.  “How unfortunate our first meeting would have been under these circumstances.”

“It’s not actually our first meeting,” says McGonagall, “I’ve held you when you were just a babe.  I would’ve visited more, but your parents were on the run.”

“Let’s not bring up dark memories,” says Dumbledore.  “It’s such a pleasure to see you again, Harry, my boy.  And of course, you as well, Tom.”

Tom looks thrown at the casual way Dumbledore addresses him, but bows politely all the same.  Harry is barely able to stifle down his snicker, because a shocked Tom is something he rarely sees.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” asks McGonagall.  “The Great Hall is still serving and the food is impeccable.”

“No,” he says, but he’s still acutely aware of his churning stomach.  “But I would prefer a light breakfast.  Just tea and some fruit will be fine for me.  I much rather talk about Evelyn Woods.”

McGonagall’s face falls, probably because she had been hoping to see him sit in the Great Hall as his parents had done all those years ago.  He had probably broken her heart when he had decided not to continue his family’s legacy.  He felt a tug of guilt for a split second, but he figured she was old enough to understand.  The missing children came first.

“Now, now,” says Dumbledore.  “Perhaps we should leave such heavy topics for later in the day.  The Aurors are still gathering evidence and the students are just heading to their first classes.  Both Minerva and I have a lot to prepare today.  Perhaps a tour to your quarters and the surroundings will suffice for now.”

“A child is missing,” he can’t help himself from snapping, but Dumbledore doesn’t seem offended.

“Yes,” says Dumbledore, “But talking now won’t solve anything.  We have little to none information, and diverting from our daily schedule will cause panic.”

He’s about to argue more when Tom discretely places a hand on the small of his back.  He stiffens slightly, and then inwardly sighs before conceding.  “Alright, but as soon as any information comes up, I will prefer to be informed.”

“Of course,” says McGonagall.  “We wouldn’t want to hinder your investigation at all, Harry.”

Their quarters are located right in-between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms.  Harry had asked for a room on the lower levels, since he disliked being so high-up.  It makes sense for wizards to have a castle full of rotating staircases since they could use magic to stop a fall from high above, but Harry rather not risk walking too many stairs if he could.  Of course, Tom would help him if he ever really needed to go up, but he rather not go through the embarrassment of having the devil carry him.

“We’ll send a house-elf up immediately with food,” says Dumbledore when they’re dropped off at their quarters.  “I apologize for not being able to show you around, but as soon as classes are over, I’ll send over a seventh-year prefect to assist you.  Please do make yourselves at home.”

When they’re finally gone, Harry sits himself down in the armchair in front of the intricate looking fireplace in their room.  “A painting,” he starts, “a _painting_ controls the entrance into our quarters.  Is that safe?”

Tom actually laughs at him, “Don’t fret, my lord.  Anyone silly enough to break into a devil’s protected place won’t live for very long.”

“Are you going to place protections now?” asks Harry, curious, and watches as Tom seats himself down across from him.

“There’s no rush,” says Tom.  “There’s only wizards around and they wouldn’t dare go against their Headmaster.”

“There is someone here kidnapping the children though.”

“They’re getting bolder,” muses Tom.  “I presumed that the perpetrators were going after young children because of their lack of skill to protect themselves.  But Woods was a third year.  She would’ve known enough magic to fight off her attackers.”

“The age gap also rules out a couple of rituals,” says Harry.  “Of course, we should visit the library here to see if they have any more information, but I highly doubt we’ll learn much from that, anyway.”

“Breakfast first,” says Tom, a tad sternly, and as if summoned by his words, plates of food appear magically on top of the table in front of them.  Harry makes to grab the cup of Yorkshire tea, and Tom tsks, pointing at the slices of orange.  “You need to subsist on more than just tea, my lord.”

“No,” he says, petulantly, and almost immediately, there’s a gloved hand on top of his, stopping him from reaching for the Yorkshire tea again.  “You can’t forcefeed me,” he says, and Tom has a smirk on his face as if daring him to stop him.  Tom bites the middle of his glove of his right hand to remove the glove, since his left is still holding onto Harry’s hand and preventing him from moving.  He reaches over to grab the slice of orange, and holds it directly against Harry’s lips.

“You’re unbelievable,” Harry quips, but obediently starts to eat the fruit.  It’s more trouble to argue with Tom, anyway. 

“Do you need me to feed you your eggs as well?” asks Tom, dryly, and Harry sighs.

“No, you’ve made your point,” he says. 

“That’s a good boy,” says Tom, and Harry flushes because hearing Tom say that never fails to make his nerves aflutter.  Bloody devils and their good looks.

* * *

“Oh hello,” says a female voice, startling Harry into looking up from his book.  A witch is standing in front of his table, her arms full to the brim with thick tomes.  She has bushy hair and wide teeth, and her tie marks her as a Gryffindor.  “I haven’t seen you around; are you a new student?”

“Harry Potter,” he says in lieu of an answer, and the witch gasps, her eyes wide.

“I know you,” she says, and Harry winces in preparation for the long spiel wizards and witches usually have for him regarding his late parents.  Instead, she drops the books down and stares up at him with admiration in her eyes.  “I’ve read your journals,” she says, “They’re quite hard to get ahold of, but Mum sends them to me sometimes.  Oh, I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”

A muggleborn.  He holds out his right hand and the girl shakes it enthusiastically, her brown eyes warm.  “I think it was very brave of you to start confronting Death Eaters,” she continues. 

“Thank you, Granger,” he says, mostly out of surprise than anything else.  “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Study period,” Granger explains, and her smile is warm.  “Call me Hermione.  We’re the same age, after all.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, pleasantly surprised, and she smiles up at him.  She leans over, her eyes peering at his books. 

“You’re reading about rituals?” she asks, her eyebrows raised high.

“For a case,” he explains, since she knows exactly who he is already.  “It’s why we’re in Hogwarts.  We need to find out the perpetrator’s motives.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes bright.  “That’s what I’m best at, you know,” she says, going to tap at her Ravenclaw crest.  “Research.  Feel free to ask me for any help.  I know Hogwarts Library inside and out.”

“Ravenclaw?” asks Harry.  “But your tie…”

Hermione goes bright pink as she glances down at the red and gold, “Oh goodness.  I must’ve taken Ron’s instead.  This is completely embarrassing.”  She draws out her wand, tapping it once and placing a glamour on it.  Before Harry’s eyes, the tie turns to Ravenclaw colors.  “Anyway,” she presses on, her cheeks still slightly pink, “I heard about Woods.  She’s part of your case, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” he says, somewhat amused at her antics, and he doesn’t protest when she sits down in the seat across from him.  He slides over some of the books that he had checked out earlier.  “It _would_ help if you could –”

“Got it,” says Hermione, cutting him off almost immediately, her eyes shining.  “I’ll be more than happy to help.”

“And can I ask you a few questions later?  About magic?”

“Absolutely,” says Hermione, her smile bright, and she immediately gets to work, cracking open the large tome that Harry had given her.

The silence is welcoming and comfortable, even though they’ve just met, and it’s with a warm feeling that Harry starts to read. 

* * *

 Tom is laughing into his ear even as Harry curls a desperate hand into his coat, creating creases and wrinkles in the devil’s perfectly pressed outfit.  He has his other hand over his stomach, and he’s just shy of starting to outright whimper. 

“The food’s too rich,” he complains, half bent over now, and they’re almost to their quarters but he just couldn’t take the pain anymore.  It’s taking all his self-control not to just ask Tom to carry him the rest of the way.

“Is that why you had such a strange expression on your face when Dumbledore introduced us?” asks Tom, obviously amused and doing nothing to hide it.  “Has it been hurting since then?”

“The grease,” he starts to explain.  “It made the fried chicken taste so _good_.”

“This is why I advise you not to eat such ill-made food, my lord,” says Tom.

Harry groans, and gives up, resting his head on Tom’s broad shoulder.  “Please make it go away.”

Tom hums, “I’ve heard there is a nurse here.  We can take you to her.”

“No thanks,” grumbles Harry.  “It’s embarrassing enough to be this weak in front of you, I rather not let anyone see me like this.”

Tom’s laughing, “It’s much too late for that.” 

He stiffens, and within seconds he hears footsteps and Harry sighs heavily, not looking forward to dealing with anyone. 

“Look who we have here,” drawls a rich cultured voice.  “A loser who can’t even use his own magic anymore and his muggle butler.”

Harry resists the urge to just order Tom to make it all go away and pivots to look at who had the gall to interrupt them.  His stomach still churns though, so he rests slightly against Tom, knowing his devil will ensure he’ll stay standing despite the pain.  The wizard looks like a ponce, with silver-blonde hair and a Slytherin tie on.  He already knows who the prat is.  “Hello, Malfoy,” he says. 

“You’re a real idiot if you think you’re safe within these walls without magic,” sneers Malfoy.  “Dumbledore can’t protect you now.”

“I don’t need Dumbledore to protect me,” says Harry, “I have all the protection I need right here.”

Malfoy scoffs at his words, “What protection?  You think a Muggle can do anything against me?”

Harry can’t help snickering at that, and Tom rolls his eyes, knowing exactly why Harry’s laughing.  It’s just Tom getting mistaken as a Muggle is somewhat hilarious. 

“Are you laughing at me?” asks Malfoy, his tone harsh.  “You put my father away, Potter!”

Harry’s laughter abruptly stops and he frowns, “Your father was a confirmed Death Eater.  Besides, it wasn’t me who convicted him, it was the Wizengamot.”

“He was still my father,” retorts Malfoy, his eyes blazing with angry.  “I haven’t seen him ever since the trial!  This is _your_ fault.  You’re a disgrace to Wizarding Society.” 

Apparently, he’s riled Malfoy up too far because the blond takes out his wand and sends a stunner toward them.  Harry doesn’t even flinch and Tom easily turns the both of them so the devil’s in front of the spell, letting the force of it hit his back.

Malfoy lets out a sound of triumph, but it trails off when Tom stays standing.  When Tom glances over at Malfoy, he’s smirking.  “Was that magic?  I’ve got to say, it really isn’t all what I was expecting.”

Malfoy lets out an infuriated scream, and suddenly there’s more explosive spells heading toward them.  Tom sighs at the sight, and then gently moves the both of them so they could sidestep the spells.  Harry can’t help the hiss of pain that escapes him when Tom does because it jars his stomach. 

Tom’s not smiling anymore when he looks up, and his voice is low and dangerous.  “Permission to remove the brat?”

“Can you do it in a way where he still thinks you’re a Muggle?” he whispers, and Tom chuckles.

“Easily, my lord.  Can you stay standing by yourself?”

Harry nods, and leans against the wall, one hand still pressed against his stomach. 

Tom’s face is dark and dangerous when he looks back up at Malfoy.  “You were amusing for a short while,” he says, “but you’ve caused my master pain, and for that, I think a little punishment is in order.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, and Malfoy sends off a series of desperate hexes in order to stop the slowly approaching devil.  Tom easily sidesteps the sloppy spells and Malfoy’s shaking when Tom’s close enough to reach him, falling backwards onto his bottom in fear. 

Harry doesn’t blame him though, because Tom’s emanating killing intent and that would scare anyone, wizard or not.  He wonders how Malfoy would react to seeing his devil in his true form.

“I trust you won’t be telling anyone about this encounter,” says Tom, a smug smirk on his face.  “After all, a mere Muggle butler defeating a Malfoy spawn?  It’s certainly unheard of.  What would everyone say?” Tom’s hand is fast, and within seconds, the Malfoy heir is knocked unconscious.  Tom removes the glove of his left hand, and presses the palm of his hand against Malfoy, and the wizard disappears as the contract spins.

“Where’d you send him?” asks Harry, curious, and Tom picks him up, one hand underneath Harry’s bum, and holds Harry securely against his chest.

“To his bedroom,” says Tom.  “He’ll think we put him there ourselves, and he’ll live in fear knowing we can get in and out his bedroom with ease.”

“You’re evil,” says Harry, and Tom chuckles as he approaches the painting and speaks the password.

* * *

“Are you warm?” asks Tom, and Harry nods, pulling the fur-lined coat closer around him.  Tom had made it last night when they found out that the Muggle village they would be visiting had dismal weather conditions.

“Good,” says Tom.  He turns to face Harry, and gently pulls up the hood of the jacket, hiding Harry’s face from view.  “No portkeys today,” the devil says. 

“Really,” says Harry, flatly, and he doesn’t struggle when Tom picks him up, one arm beneath his back and the other his knees.  “Are you going to fly us there?”

“Yes,” says Tom.  “It’ll only take a few minutes, my lord.  Please close your eyes.”

“I’ve seen your wings before,” he points out, but obediently closes them.  He hears the sounds of flapping wings and the harsh cold wind is against his nose for only a few minutes before they’re landing again.  He sneezes, and Tom chuckles.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says, and Harry does, staring straight into Tom’s amused ones.  “How’s your stomach?”

“Fine,” he says, and he stumbles only a little bit when Tom lets him back down on his feet.  “That was preferable,” he says, and when Tom’s smirk turns smug, he adds, “But only by a _little_ bit.  Cars and trains are _much_ better.”

“But the time it wastes,” points out Tom, and if Harry wanted to, he could probably tease the devil about his petulant tone.

“Thank you,” he says, instead, and Tom sends a wry look, “it was very helpful.”

“If you’re going to be like that about it, I don’t want to hear it,” grumbles Tom and starts walking.  Harry barely stifles his laugh before chasing after the devil.

“I’m sorry,” he says, as straight-faced as he can, “It _was_ very helpful!”

Tom side eyes him, his mouth in a straight line, and Harry tries his best to appeal to Tom’s good side.  He sidles up to the devil, blinking his large doe-like eyes at Tom, knowing the devil’s weak to his puppy dog eyes.  Especially when he’s not wearing his customary eye-patch.  “It’s not like you can fly us around _everywhere_.  It takes up your energy and what if people see?”

Tom rolls his eyes, probably fed up with him, when he suddenly stiffens, his head going upward as he sniffs noticeably.  He immediately gets into a defensive stance, shoving Harry behind him as his red eyes dart back and forth.  “Something’s wrong,” the devil says. 

Harry doesn’t smell anything himself, but he knows better than to question the devil’s instincts.  “What do you smell?”

“You can’t smell anything?” asks Tom, and when he nods, the devil sighs.  “That must mean the blood isn’t recent.”  He relaxes, though he’s still frowning.  “There’s just so much of it that it threw me for a bit.”

“You didn’t smell it when you were here last time?”

“No,” says Tom, his expression thoughtful.  “But I also can’t hear anything, either.”  He pauses, before kneeling down.  “On my back, my lord.”

Harry follows the devil’s orders immediately, jumping on and knowing for sure that the devil will catch him before he fell.  Tom sets off on a sprint immediately, heading toward the village that the Queen had mentioned. 

Harry didn’t know what he expected.  Maybe with the mention of the blood Tom could smell, he expected a massacre of sorts, or even another missing body.  Instead, the village is deserted.  There are signs of life here and there, but when Tom sets him down gently and takes an experimental sniff, Harry knows that there’s no one left here.

“Maybe an evacuation?” he asks, peering at the discarded bicycles laying around.  “It looks like they just upped and left everything at a moment’s notice.”

“And there’s no signs of rust or aging,” muses Tom, turning over a pot that had left upturned.  He walks a few more steps, staring suspiciously at a stone well.  “Harry?  Can you smell anything here?”

He walks cautiously over, sniffing all the while, and then turns completely pale.  His face must confirm it, because Tom starts to crank the well.  The creaking sounds only add to the ominous feeling of it all and Harry gags when the bucket reaches the top. 

It’s full of blood, and when the bucket shakes a bit when it reaches the top, some of it splatters down the sides.  Harry nearly throws up, and Tom has to steady him in order to make sure he doesn’t fall.

As the bucket continues to sway, more of the blood spills out, and as a result, they can see what has made the bucket so heavy.

It’s a human head.

* * *

 

His little master’s shivering when they’re finally allowed to leave.  They had called the Aurors as soon as Harry had recovered, and when the Aurors had arrived, a team of them had used magic to scout the inside of the well.  Tom had suggested going down there himself, but Harry hadn’t been able to let go of the devil.  Instead, Tom had held him close as they watched the Aurors analyze the blood and the well.  The well didn’t have any secret passageways, thankfully, and in the end, it was confirmed that the blood wasn’t magical. 

The Aurors had taken the head with them, as well, but it was highly likely that it belonged to a Muggle.  Which meant that the case would eventually be turned over to Muggle authorities.

He’s just done talking to the last Auror when he catches sight of his forlorn-looking master, knowing Harry probably just wants to go back and sleep. 

He walks over and deposits a warm blanket around Harry, making Harry turn to look at the devil in surprise.  “Where’d you get this?”

“From the Aurors,” explains Tom.  “They offered to side-apparate us back to the Potter Mansion.”

Harry makes a face, and Tom sends Harry an apologetic look.  “It’s our only option, unfortunately.  They won’t leave us alone.  I’ll make you a nice cup of Yorkshire tea when we get back.”

“Okay, but I want cream today,” Harry says and then he pauses, looking over Tom’s shoulder in surprise.  “Sirius?”

Tom can’t help making his own face at Harry’s words, and Harry catches on, giving him an amused glance before brushing past him. 

It’s not Tom’s fault.  He just can’t stand Harry’s godfather, and according to Harry, the feeling’s mutual.  Harry doesn't  _need_ Black; he has Tom, doesn't he?

Nevertheless, he’s still Harry’s faithful butler so he sighs inwardly and turns to face them.  He has to resist the urge to scowl because Black has one hand in Harry’s hair and the other one slung casually around his neck and it’s so _uncouth_ and absolutely _ruining_ the hairstyle he’s put Harry’s hair in earlier this morning. 

Black straightens up when he sees Tom, and smiles widely, sending the devil a one-handed salute before turning all his attention back on his godson.  “I came as soon as I could,” says Sirius.  “Why were you two out here alone?  Couldn’t you have sent someone else?”

“I’m fine,” says Harry, smiling.  “Tom’s with me.”

“Still,” argues Sirius, “You could have sent for me.  I would’ve come right away.  You shouldn’t visit dangerous crime sites with just your butler.”

Harry meets Tom’s eyes with his own, obviously amused.  “Tom’s not _just_ a butler, Sirius.”

“I know,” says Sirius, looking exasperated.  “I’ve heard it all before.  He’s one _hell_ of a butler.  But _still_ , it’s just the two of you, and there’s a chance that these are magical criminals and – ”

“We hunt Death Eaters for a living, Sirius,” says Harry and Black sighs, long and suffering.

“And I still can’t do anything about that.  But Harry,” says the Auror, his voice starting to sound like a whine.

“What did I say will happen if you start trying to parent me?”

Black looks dejected, “You’ll stop telling me about the cases.”

“Good, you remember,” says Harry, and he reaches forward to pat Black’s arm with affection.  “Just accept that I’m perfectly safe with Tom.  Nothing’s happened to me, yet, alright?”

“ _Yet_ ,” repeats Black, but falls quiet immediately when Harry sends him a sharp look. 

Even though Tom doesn’t like Black at all, he can still feel a pang of sympathy for the Auror.  After all, to be on the receiving end of Harry’s bad side is not a good place to be.

“Look, maybe you should rethink your stance on magic,” says Black, his voice low.  “It’s getting more dangerous out there; there’s rumors that You Know Who might be coming back.  And what with you getting involved in this case and going back to Hogwarts…”

“Sirius,” says Harry, his voice sharp.  “We talked about this before.”

Black still looks worried, but he holds out his arms.  Harry’s been along on side-apparation before so he locks his arm with his godfather’s immediately.  Tom follows suit, and they suffer through the five seconds of apparition.  Harry stumbles, and Tom’s there immediately, removing his arm from Black and steadying his master.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” asks Harry, and Black shakes his head. 

“I left Moony without telling him.  I wouldn’t want to worry him.”

“Can’t you send one of those Patronus things?”

“It’ll wake him up,” says Black, and he leans forward, ruffling Harry’s hair and messing it up even further.  “Stay safe, okay, Harry?  I wouldn’t know what to do if I ended up losing you too.”

Harry leans into the touch for a slight second before stepping back.  Sirius pats him one last time before appartaing away with a crack.

Harry heaves a relieved sigh, before looking up at Tom, a slight smile on his face.  “I miss him,” he says, “But I can’t afford to.”

“He isn’t useless,” Tom says, eventually.  “He’s an Auror.  Spending time with him won’t be necessarily a bad thing.”

Harry actually laughs at that, his face brightening.  “I feel like you don’t mean that.  I know how you hate the guy.”

“For good reasons,” he grumbles, and Harry looks like he’s about to reply when he’s tackled. 

“You were gone so long!” complains Finnian, his blonde hair mussed up as if he’s just woken up from a deep slumber. 

“It’s been less than a week,” says Harry and Maylene, her glasses haphazardly put on and her hair down instead of her usual pigtails, comes out from the doorway. 

“It feels like it’s been much longer,” she says.  “Life in the Mansion just isn’t as fun without you.”

Harry looks amused, and when she grabs his hand and starts leading him into the mansion, he lets her.  He sends a glance back toward Tom, but Tom just inclines his head, opting to head down toward the kitchens instead of following.

When he gets there, Baldroy, their American chef, is casually sharpening his knives.  He knocks one off the counter when Tom enters, and Tom leans downward, catching it by the hilt.

“You scared me,” scowls Baldroy.  Tom stares at him, and then places the knife down next to the others.

“Harry wants Yorkshire tea,” he says, and Baldroy grunts, using his thumb to point back at the cabinet. 

“When did you get back?” the chef asks as Tom starts to rummage through the cabinets. 

“Just now,” he explains.  “How was everything back home?”

“Quiet,” says Baldroy.  When Tom turns to get the teapot, Baldroy hands him a manila folder.  He raises his eyebrows, and Baldroy explains.  “The blueprints.”

“Good,” he says.  “When will they get here?”

“A week at most.”

Tom hums, glad that something’s going right.  “Put the knives away and head to bed, Baldroy.  It’s nearing midnight.”

“Don’t need help?” asks Baldroy, curious, and Tom sighs.

“With your flamethrower?” he asks, and Baldroy laughs.

“You do have a point.” 

By the time Tom’s done making Harry’s tea with cream, Baldroy’s gone, the knives neatly put away.  He carries the teapot and teacup on a silver tray, with a handful of scones just in case Harry’s hungry.

When he gets to Harry’s bedroom, the seventeen-year-old is still awake.  He turns when he hears Tom come in and his eyes brighten when he sees what Tom’s brought him.  “You really brought some,” he says, in wonder.

“And when have I ever not made good on my word?” he asks, and Harry laughs, walking over and taking one of the scones.  His fingers are trembling slightly as he does so, nearly knocking over the rest, and Tom narrows his eyes at that, completely lost on why Harry’s nervous.

He sets the tray down and then turns to look at Harry, a slight frown on his face.

Harry notices his expression, and then takes a deep breath.

“I need you to break the seal on my magic.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, please comment and leave kudos! :) 
> 
> This story won't be very long, maybe totaling 60k words in total, and I have around 5 chapters already written. Please let me know what you think / since it's a mystery any theories and all later on in the story, because they really do help me write :)


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